A journey through life with creativity, hope, and dreams…

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drive in the country

Press Publish ~ Portland.Celi’s there you know. Hers was the first blog I followed when first starting mine in May of 2011. Her blog is a treat. If you haven’t already you should check it out. Some sessions will be live streamed, you have to register for tickets. Her session will begin at 1:45. There will also be so many helpful sessions, I hope to catch thisone, as I am new to WordPress Premium. I am a little excited. Here is my very first post, have you read it? It seems so long ago, so much has happened since that day in May. There have been failures and unexpected successes. Moments to embrace and lessons in letting go. Through it all, I have laughed, cried, and learned. Delightfully alive. Be well, Jess

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Do you sometimes feel too comfortable, like you need to shake things up a bit to keep from standing still?

Is there some deep down craving, a story left untold, a path grown over from lack of treading? Or is it just me that has to push, to find detours, over mountainous obstacles, brought to a dead end; only to turn around, catch my breath only to be propelled forward yet again.

Its only human, I suppose, to want to hide from change. To stay snugged in your box of contentment. Why venture out; it’s warm and cozy there.

We should leave our lives open to serendipity; creative souls are not meant to be boxed in. There are discoveries out there that may make our hearts quiver, or shake us to our souls.

(Howie is so cute in his hat.) You only have to take the chance. Bring a friend, or go it alone.

Come out from behind your self imposed barriers, (yes, you Sidney)

We have dreams, we have fears to conquer. (Well, Sidney; I do)

We have an adventure ahead. Let’s not waste a moment. (You’re not coming with me, are you Sidney?)

How does the saying go? ” “I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way!” (No wonder Sidney doesn’t wanna come.)

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I guess, there really is no sense in complaining, we are all in the same boat. The weather has the upper hand. Mother nature must be hung up somewhere else and forgot we are stuck in winter. It’s like an old record that skips, the tune moves ahead just bit only to be bounced to where it began.

So we sit and we wait, we prepare, we hope.

We take advantage, although somewhat reluctantly, of the quiet days. Soon the pace will pick up. They’ll be gardens to till and beds to prepare. The peas are ready to go in, along with the spinach, chard and other hearty greens.

There will be goats and llamas to be sheared. Barns to be spring cleaned. The chickens will pick up their pace. I miss their eggs.

The grapes could use some love; with all that has been going on in the past years they have been sorely neglected. I am excited to be planting more this spring, along with more blueberry bushes.

We all need things to look forward to, don’t we. Human nature certainly. How sad must it be to have no hope, or faith in the future.

I keep telling myself to be patient, enjoy the here and now; rest while you can. There will be busier days ahead.

I am restless, I suppose everyone is at this time of the year [in the North East of USA].

Yes, Lexi, they’ll be time to play. But today we wait and plan, plot, and prepare.

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And just like that, it’s mud season. Grab your muck boots and lets dive right in. You’d think with all of the snow and ice we have been driving in, we’d be happy to be rid of it, and you are right, mostly.
Winter’s opinion of our driving skills matters very little now. Should we fancy ourself worthy of praise? We made it through, we survived relatively unscathed, free of this foreboding stretch of time. Now it is giving way to the promise of spring, but getting from one to the other required passing through an ominous complication called, mud season, or pot hole season, call it what you will.
The problem with this season? No, it is not merely the gobs of the gooey, sloppy, boot sucking glop carried in your boots or paws. No, it is far more sinister than that.
The problem?
Driving.

This, this makes your road a mighty opponent, a duel between you (your vehicle)and the mud-rutted road. It separates the men from the boys; the wheat from the chaff.

First,logistics come into play; you must figure out where to direct your wheels. The decisions come fast and furious, vigilance indispensable, lest you take too long to decide, even a moment of indecision can slow your momentum. Do you ride on the high part or the low part to stay out of the ditch? You follow the tire ruts that came before you, don’t even think about forging your own path? You must abandon your instincts, and drive like hell. Bottoming out is a fatal blow in an area that is mostly uphill and down and mostly dirt roads. If you are venturing out in New England this weekend, don’t leave your gumption at home.

Do you think I can train the pups to leave their boots at the door.

The goats won’t muck up the kitchen with mud. They are more polite and mind their manners. (except when the eat the pocket right from the apron I’m wearing)

Mud-season, a battle of two, a season of indeterminate duration when spring and winter struggle for dominance. A season you won’t find on your calendar, a season all its own; none of spring’s lovely flowers, or Autumn’s showy colors, none of winter’s white billows of snow, nor summer’s freshly cut green grass, just serious mud.

Winter has yet to yield its grip, the snow is still feet thick near the hedgerow, it’s best it melts slowly. A flooded basement, streams, and rivers would not be a better option.

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Common sense and good nature will do a lot to make the pilgrimage of life not too difficult”
– William Somerset Maugham

Sophie, you are not a duck…

Andrew, my sweet, sweet little neighbor. Oh, and Claire.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.”
– Robert Frost, Two Roads